


I'm jealous of the way you're happy without me

by anathefangirl



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, I APOLOGIZE, I'm Sorry, One Shot, Post-Olympics, Reflection, Self-Reflection, VirtueMoir - Freeform, i'm never doing this again, it hurts, vm - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 11:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathefangirl/pseuds/anathefangirl
Summary: "Now that she looks back on the previous day, he looked happy. He finally had all he had ever wanted: a family. Possibly kids down the road in a few years, like he has been dreaming for so long. All the things she couldn’t give him just yet. She knows she should be happy for him, and she wants to. After all, she had only wished him the best in the whole world. If for him the best was her, she should be happy. But somewhere in her heart, she had always thought he would come back to her, just like he had come back before."





	I'm jealous of the way you're happy without me

**Author's Note:**

> The title says it all so read it at your own risk tbh.
> 
> A guy in The Voice Portugal sang Jealous and I immediately came up with this so this is totally his fault.
> 
> Keep in mind that it's almost 4am here and I haven't run this through my beta so this is probably shitty.
> 
> Even if it's shitty, I still cried writing it so comment and give kudos and all that :)
> 
> Obviously, title comes from Jealous, by Labrinth
> 
> This one goes to Mills, my fav angst lover.

She sits now by the window of her bedroom in the cottage, watching the raindrops falling down the window. This really matches her mood, unlike yesterday, when she could feel the warmth of the bright rays of sun on her exposed skin, which nearly caused a mark on her pale body. Not that she cares right now. She took a classy green dress that reached her knees. She knows it’s his favourite colour on her, and she knows the effect it has on him. The effect _she_ still has on him, even after all these years.

 

It’s been now twenty-four hours since she last saw him in his black tuxedo. He should be now on his way to his honeymoon with her. She doesn’t know where. She doesn’t know many things about him nowadays. Probably somewhere in Europe, where he had promised they would go and visit properly once they stopped competing. But that’s just another let down in twenty-five years of broken promises. The promise that it wouldn’t be like after Sochi all over again. The promise that he wouldn’t shut her out. The promise that they would be there for each other every step of the way. The promise of a lifelong friendship. _“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Scott”_ , she warned him once. But he didn’t listen.

 

She can count by her fingers the number of times they have talked to each other in the last four years. He didn’t even bother to invite her personally to his wedding. Her invitation came in the mail in a freezing February day, when she had just returned home from working with Marie-France at Gadbois. She was already expecting it. Charlie, his older brother, had told her that Scott had proposed. It wasn’t a surprise, really. Scott had always been known for being a little impulsive in his relationships, and this one had been going for three years already, when he decided to propose. But she was surprised he knew her new address. He had probably asked her mum, she figured. A twenty-five-year friendship come down to this.

 

_I hope it’s pouring rain there too_ , she thinks. She thinks of the way the raindrops get to be with him when she can’t, and the way they can touch his body, just like she used to touch his just four years ago. She thinks of the way he used to look after walking in the rain, when he refused to use an umbrella, and got to the rink soaking wet. Or when he got to her house and asked to use _her_ shower to warm up. How he used to take up space in her closet with his clothes, because he was there more often than in his own apartment.  

 

_I'm jealous of the rain_

_That falls upon your skin_

_It's closer than my hands have been_

_I'm jealous of the rain_

_I'm jealous of the wind_

_That ripples through your clothes_

_It's closer than your shadow_

_Oh, I'm jealous of the wind._

 

Two years ago, she had decided to move. That house had too many memories of _him_. Too many kitchen dance parties, with the excuse of “new programs” that would never end up being used. Too many attempts at cooking, which always ended up in food fights and eating takeout at the couch. Too many nights watching romantic comedies or Audrey Hepburn movies (or Pride and Prejudice, but he would never admit that) with a blanket on top of them, hiding (to no one) all kinds of activities that could be going on under it. Too many nights that ended with them falling asleep tangled in each other’s bodies in her bed (she needed him to at a hundred percent for training after all, they couldn’t risk him getting a sore neck or back on the next day). Too many mornings waking up together and pretending it was all normal, trying to avoid the warmth and comfort of the domesticity of having breakfast together in her kitchen. Too much laughter, too many tickle fights, too many silly moments that would never get out of her head. She wonders if he can just forget all those moments and live his life normally without her, without looking back.

 

_I'm jealous of the nights_

_That I don't spend with you_

_I'm wondering who you lay next to_

_Oh, I'm jealous of the nights_

_I'm jealous of the love_

_Love that was in here_

_Gone for someone else to share_

_Oh, I'm jealous of the love._

 

Now, her house feels cold and she wakes up alone in her bed every morning. She has no one to share her breakfast and she doesn’t feel like doing kitchen dance parties anymore. She orders food every night, when Marie-France and Patch don’t invite her to her house. She doesn’t like to intrude either and feel like a burden to other people, so she often refuses their invitation too. She loves Billie-Rose though. That girl gives her absolute joy in this period when she feels so alone. It’s just easy to be with the little girl. She doesn’t have to pretend to be happy and smile. She can be herself.

 

_As I sink in the sand_

_Watch you slip through my hands_

_Oh, as I die here another day, yeah_

_'Cause all I do is cry behind this smile._

 

She misses all these little moments. But most of all, she misses her best friend, the way he made her feel at home wherever they were in the world, the way he made her feel like she mattered. At least back then. She misses the way he used to look at her, like she hung the moon and the stars, like there’s only her in the world. She misses the way he used to hold her and touch her. Not like a little porcelain doll that could break, but like a strong woman who can carry and take care of herself.

 

She doesn’t blame him, though. Not completely. She had told him to go. She couldn’t give him all he wanted. She wasn’t there yet. And it wasn’t fair for him.

 

When he went to take his things from her house, he almost spent a whole hour apologising. Saying that he loved her so much. He cried, mourning a love that perhaps was never meant to be theirs. All she could answer was _“there’s nothing to forgive.”_ Because she didn’t think they would end up like this. Like two strangers who find themselves together at the same table at a wedding reception and are forced to make small talk. She almost laughs at the comparison she makes in her head, if it didn’t hurt so much thinking about it.

 

_I wished you the best of_

_All this world could give_

_And I told you when you left me_

_There's nothing to forgive._

 

Now, she thinks about all those moments that always seem to be stuck in her head. She wonders if they had no meaning to him. How he could just let go, move on and forget about a whole life shared together. She thinks about the way their fingers just laced together when they held hands. He seemed different though. It wasn’t the tight grip he always had when it was her. It looked looser, like he wasn’t afraid of letting her go, like his life didn’t depend on her presence. She thinks of the way he leaned in to her and whispered something that she couldn’t make up. She thinks of the way she saw them dancing. The way he had just invited her to the dance floor like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he hadn’t promised to only ever dance with _her_. They seem comfortable with each other, like they had been doing it their whole lives. But they hadn’t. That right is reserved to _her_. It feels wrong watching it. She wonders if it feels wrong to him too.

 

Now that she looks back on the previous day, he looked happy. He finally had all he had ever wanted: a family. Possibly kids down the road in a few years, like he has been dreaming for so long. All the things she couldn’t give him just yet. She knows she should be happy for him, and she wants to. After all, she had only wished him the best in the whole world. If for him the best was her, she should be happy. But somewhere in her heart, she had always thought he would come back to her, just like he had come back before.

 

_But I always thought you'd come back, tell me all you found was_

_Heartbreak and misery_

_It's hard for me to say, I'm jealous of the way_

_You're happy without me_

 

She decides to call him. His voice has always been the only thing capable of soothing her in times like these, when her mind is all over the place and she can’t make sense of it.

 

He picks up immediately. No matter how messy their relationship might be, he will always be there to pick her up. Only her. Even if he’s not always the best in showing it. He knows he’s been a crappy friend, partner, in these last years.

 

On the other end, all he hears is soft weeping.

 

“T? Are you okay?”

 

She breathes in the sense of comfort and peace that his voice brings her.

 

_“I’m jealous of the way you’re happy without me.”_

**Author's Note:**

> You can yell at me, I'm yelling at myself too. I'll never do this again istg, this hurts, I just want Tessa to be happy.
> 
> Also, please don't take this as my view on what's happening in the fandom. I love Scott so much so the way I described him is purely for the sake of this fic. I love that man to pieces, he inspires me so much, and I just want him to be happy with whoever he wants.
> 
> Anyway, still hope you have enjoyed it :)


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